


i am the girl anachronism!

by holy_smokes



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ass to Mouth, Complicated Relationships, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degrading Language, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Domination, Female Masturbation, Humiliation, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Multi, Pegging, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Sexism, Slut Shaming, Smut, They're 17, This will hurt, loss of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-24 21:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_smokes/pseuds/holy_smokes
Summary: Allison's estranged from her once favorite sibling, left to grapple with complicated feelings. Klaus is everyone's prettiest, most wanted submissive with a soft spot for Number Two. Thing is, Three's ready to claim her spot at the top -- and Four's collateral damage.





	i am the girl anachronism!

**Author's Note:**

> when you just want to write some pegging porn but end with writing almost 7k of backstory, angst, feels and - you got it - pegging! please read the tags, there are kinks in this fic which aren't to everyone's tastes. (written for this kinkmeme prompt: https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=920348#cmt920348) 
> 
> title is taken from the legendary dresden doll's 'girl anachronism' song, which has a big klaus vibe, if you ask me. this fic is all written from allison's POV. i know this fic is gonna be pretty niche but leave me some kudos/comments if it was ya thaaang. peace! <3

  
  
_I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this_  
_So I might join your century - but only as a doubtful guest!_  
_I was too precarious, removed as a caesarian_  
_Behold the world's worst accident -_  
_I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM!_

 

***

 

Klaus stumbles into the dining hall, hair wild, eyes blown and licking the corner of his mouth as if someone left something sweet there.

She watches as Diego swaggers in mere seconds afterwards, a smirk sitting unpleasantly on his handsome face as he winks at Luther and claims his seat at the table. Their Father regards the two latecomers with disdain but not enough to roar at them for their tardiness.

Over the past year Two has grown into himself; a dangerous concoction of Momma’s boy insecurities mixed with arrogant, boyish charm. Seventeen and ready to take the world by storm, Allison finds him a worthy competitor in this competitive life even if he is too weak, guided by emotion, to _truly_ compete with a soldier like her.

“Couldn’t wait,” Diego whispers, leering over at his brother as he sits down, boastful, “I tried to tell him, _after_ dinner, Klaus. He nearly cried.”

“You’re disgusting,” Allison hisses back, the clattering of the dinner plates disguising their forbidden chatter.

Diego leans back obnoxiously, only reigning his post-orgasm confidence when Reginald’s heavy stare falls upon his disliked Number Two.

“Do not rock back on the chair,” their Father booms, making the skittish siblings - Vanya and Klaus - almost send their spoons flying into the air, “one of these days, Number Two, you will fall and you will bite your tongue so hard it will slice itself right out of that troublesome mouth.”

Allison ponders on that thought, lingering like residue from a nightmare. Diego without a tongue would sure be nice. She waits patiently as Grace serves them one by one, eyes travelling down the table to rest upon Klaus. He’s fidgeting with the napkin on his lap, the world’s worst poker face as he glances up, eyes falling on Diego, a swooning expression settling on his feminine features.

Four has always been a colorful member of the Academy, one Allison kept close until she couldn’t. They were thick as thieves in their early teenage years. He felt more like her sister than the elusive, hidden Seven. Klaus was the sibling who sat in the bath, back turned, singing to her as she cried, terrified of putting her first tampon inside to soak up the blood. They held sleepovers in each other’s bedrooms, blankets thrown over their heads as they whispered underneath them, gossiping about the others. It was Number Four who helped her paint the nails on her right hand, gently combed out the back of her hair, gave his honest opinions on new smuggled-in miniskirts.

She had always thought Klaus was special, but sadly, not long after their fifteenth birthday, the boys began to notice him too.

He was hers, before. Without the male ego that’s desperate to prove itself through competitive wins, he was uninteresting to Luther and Diego for the longest of time. Five, before he left, was never one for Klaus’ theatrics. Ben has always been fond of Four but their interests don’t match, so that left her. She could rely on her brother and in turn he relied on her. His temperament, a little soft around the edges, different to everyone else was something Allison was soft for. He inspired a feeling of protectiveness in her and he didn’t care that his brothers laughed when it was his _sister_ who would step in, tell Luther to lay off knocking Klaus about because he was pissed with Klaus failing combat training yet again.

That was until their sixteenth birthday, until Diego had a growth spurt and bulked up and Klaus discovered he could get what he wanted if he looked just right, acted just _so._

Allison didn’t fight for him. It wasn’t like that. They were sisters in the way sisters truly should be; fierce, warm with unwavering feminine solidarity. Diego discovering his dick was certainly a moment in all their lives. He’d finally been pulled off Grace’s teat, so to speak, and predictably went for the first pretty face he saw. Sure, Allison’s one to speak, keeping Luther close to her ankles, but she’s discreet. Diego can’t even spell it.

Luther looks at their brother too. She sees it in the way his eyes follow Klaus’ tiny frame as their brother prances in the kitchen. Klaus quickly learnt sex is currency for boys like him and ever since, he’s pushed boundaries. Her chest tightens when she thinks that if things were different, it’d be her Klaus would come to after a spanking from Reginald, tearful and ugly, the only time a boy like him could ever be less than ethereal.

Maybe it’s her fault Four has imprinted so hard on Two. He’s better than that. Someone as breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful as him with his magical mind, his tortured soul needs a true leader: a person capable of harnessing his special energy, bringing him to heel, appreciating his ability to serve.

Diego is a jock, the Aries ram, a wannabe God with the emotional depth of a puddle.

Klaus is heaven and hell, the ocean, a God who wants to be invisible, so deep under the water it’s hard to see him sometimes.

Only Allison can see it. She should have kept him close but she didn’t, and now they’re here, watching Diego eyefuck Klaus like a perverted sixty year old lawyer who keeps undressing the cute little intern with his eyes.

Their Father leaves after finishing the last of his broccoli, not bothering to grace his children with a farewell but that means it's time for chatter, Vanya and Ben lost in it. She glances over at Klaus who is looking at his three 'eldest' siblings with hope, desperate to be invited, to move up and join them. She gives him the once over before making a show of turning her back to him, hair big enough to visibly exclude Four from Luther’s eyeline.

“I could do it better than you,” she rushes out, quick, before Mom can hear as she brings round dessert, “I could make Klaus desperate for it.”

Her skin heats as the words leave her mouth. Luther looks at her gone out, as if she’s a stranger. She knows it’s true as she says it, even if the logistics make no sense. She’s never had sex, never touched someone in that way - _does she even want to?_ These questions don’t matter, not against the tidal wave of need to make Klaus submit, to make him bare his neck and _heel,_ all under her command.

She throws a quick look over her shoulder after Grace delivers the pie. Klaus’ puppy dog eyes flick between the three top table siblings, hoping someone will take pity and pat their lap, gesture for him.

“Klaus is gay, idiot,” Diego hisses, stabbing his pie, “he can’t get a stiffy for you.”

“He’s not gay,” Allison hisses back, equally incensed, “as _if_ I’d touch _that_ . He’d take _my_ dick.”

It’s a bold claim. She knows they exist, fake dicks, harnesses and dildos and everything else you could ever need. They escaped on a shopping spree, so long ago now, giggling teenagers as they snuck into the store and gasped over the toys, oils, lingerie they found there. Klaus was at the very beginning of his descent into Diego World, holding up negligee, stroking a small hand down a large vibrator before getting creeped out by the sugar daddies who started to pay him a little _too_ much attention.

Allison stood looking up at these perfect models, these strange and wonderful toys, fascinated.

Diego, for all his blustering about sex, doesn’t have a clue. Luther gags on his food, blushing as he listens dumbly where as Two  - _as always_ \- is relishing in the gauntlet being thrown down.

“You’d dick him down?” he asks, interested, but quiet enough so only the two siblings speaking with him can hear, “I’d be impressed, Ally.”

“I don’t need your blessing,” she spits, but the idea of the two of them finally allowing her into this special circle of brotherly boasting and dick waving appeals. She pushes away her apple pie, daydreams collecting in her mind, before Luther grabs her leftovers eagerly. They’re both lost in their wolfing down of dessert, not noticing how their sister leans back, her gaze falling on her prey. _Their_ pretty prey, always on the sidelines, keen to be a part of the pack. Once upon a time, Allison would have brought him in, a cub in need of love. _Now_ , she thinks, stroking the bounce of her hair as she stares at Klaus who eyes her uneasily, she’s going to eat him alive.

 

**  
  


Father leaves for England. It’s an annual blessing that every member of the household awaits with baited breath. For two blissful, glorious weeks, he’s absent. Grace and Pogo remain and no doubt if things went to hell their captor would fly home at once but things remain the same, just a little looser. Pogo tries to implement training schedules but he’s a follower, not a leader, easily walked all over by the first three siblings who railroad him into letting them play.

Reginald isn’t stupid. He knows things get lax in those two weeks but it’s never enough to make him cancel his visit to London.

“Any reports of misbehavior or attitude will be dealt with severely when I return,” he warns his lined-up children as he delivers the world’s worst goodbye every goddamn year, “and _gifts_ will be kept well out of your reach.”

At some point, Father started to bring back treats. It was bizarre. Allison refused to accept them at first but after stumbling across Ben and Klaus in Six’s bedroom, jumping on his bed and giggling, chocolate smeared across their faces, she wanted to try the British candy too. Whoever Reginald meets over there must be the force behind it, she’d bet money, because over the years they’ve collected mountains of Cadbury’s chocolate, toy London buses and Harry Potter merchandise to name a few.

Father had bought seven of each item from each Potter house.

“How am I supposed to know which ‘house’ you belong to? Ridiculous,” he had muttered, leaving the sack on the table like a tired Father Christmas before letting his children fight. It was Ben who had taken control of the situation, extremely serious as he delegated their houses. No one argued, they were just happy to accept their scarves, sweaters, pens.

They were thirteen. Klaus wore yellow and she wore green.

Four years later and she’s moved on from needing a Slytherin sweater to know what House she belongs to. As they wave Father goodbye this year, not that he looks back to acknowledge it, she’s quick. She informs her Mother she’ll be taking a bath, _do not disturb,_ and tells Pogo she’s popping out to stock up on _feminine products_. The ape blushes, nods his agreement. She isn’t nervous as she makes her way into the city back to the store her and Klaus giggled in all those months previous. It’s easy to pick out what she wants, selecting a strap-on she's researched. She checks the box, the black satin straps, before choosing her preferred dildo.

“May I help you, Miss?”

A tattooed sales assistant appears, taking in her choices.

“Ah, this one,” she takes the model from Allison, “this is to get the _boys_ singing, you know? Is that what you want?”

“Yep,” Allison replies confidently. She knows the woman is assessing her age, unsure, thrown by the way Allison carries herself. She picks the lube she wants - cherry - before they make their way over to pay. Before she can ask for ID, a quick scan of the store - _10.00am on a Tuesday, dead as a dodo_ \- Allison leans in.

 

“ _I heard a rumor… you thought I was old enough, and let me have all of these for free_ .”

  
**

  
She has plenty of time. There's a part of her that wants to rush, because Klaus makes it so, emboldened by their Father’s absence. He struts about in schoolgirl skirts, shorter than Allison’s and Vanya’s, his shirt tied in a knot to expose a tiny waist. She tastes something and it hits her that’s what the boys taste, too - _got to have you, make you mine_. It’s a neat trick. Klaus doesn’t know she’s feeling it too, always sullen and downcast whenever they end up alone together.

 _Do you miss me?_ She wants to ask, _do you miss how we were?_

Diego happily grabs at that ass as it passes them by, Klaus squealing. There’s no way he’s _that_ surprised by Two’s handsy approach to him, Allison thinks, rage settling in her stomach as Klaus giggles, preening under the attention.

“Dee-ay-gooooo,” Klaus drawls, yet he stands, lets himself be groped, “I have a cooking class with Mom. Let me go.”

Diego isn’t keeping him there. This is just one of Klaus’ favorite acts, a helpless damsel. Luther stares at the gap in between Four’s thighs as Two tests his asscheeks like they’re squishy stress balls. Ben peeks over the pages of his book, eyes dark and set on the scene in front of him.

“That’s enough,” Allison says quietly, firmly, “it’s rude to keep Mom waiting.”

She expects Diego to challenge it, his eyes meeting hers as he continues to squeeze Klaus’ flesh under his skirt. He must pinch, Klaus yelping like a slapped puppy, before he brings his hand back. He waves his hand dismissively at his well-groped brother, Klaus eyeing Allison with curiosity. She keeps her cool, waiting for someone to test her, the air cooling as their doll-like brother slips away for his baking sessions.

“Don’t be a cock block, sis,” Diego mutters, legs spread, “he’s for sharing. We all gotta lose our V-cards here.”

“He’s just _annoying_ ,” Allison mutters, trying to remain chill, “I can’t wait to slap the smirk off his face.”

“Jeez, Allison,” Luther blushes, arms crossed, frigid in the extreme, “does sex have to be so…”

“ - so what?” Diego cuts in, “dude, just ‘cause you have as much sex appeal as a potato - ”

“ - _Diego_ \- ”

“You’ll tell us about it?”

They stop their bickering to look over at Ben. He looks sure of himself, book balanced on a knee but eyes elsewhere.

“Like, after you’ve fucked him? You’ll tell us all about it?” he asks again. Vanya is sat on the floor beside him, cheeks tinged pink by his coarse language.

“Yeah,” she boasts prematurely, kicking at Luther lightly so she can move a little more easily, standing up from the enormous sofa, “don’t worry, brothers, you’ll get plenty of spank bank material from it. I’m prepared.”

She flattens down her cute blouse, uniforms no longer obligatory thanks to the lack of authoritative adults around to enforce the dress code, before trotting off and leaving their intrigued, awed and confused looks in her wake.

 

**

  
Klaus is messy. It’s one thing they argued about in their days as best buds. She refused to step into his room which was forever littered with broken eyeshadow palettes, wet towels, cigarette ash and spilt coffee. Her room, in contrast, has always been carefully looked after. _Tidy room, tidy mind._

He jumps as she opens his bedroom door without warning, tugging on the towel around his body protectively.

“Ally! I’m _changing!_ ” he complains, “I got flour everywhere…”

Long gone are the days he’d do nearly naked fashion shoots for her; a mix of his own clothes and hers, little skirts and cute kimonos. Reginald did allow for non-uniform clothes on the occasion, leaving it to Grace to put in their shopping orders. Allison helped Klaus cheat, writing extra skirts and dresses on Vanya’s order that were actually for him. They hid these salacious items at the back of their wardrobes, ready for dress up fun.

She shuts the doors, placing hands on her hips.

“So?”

“ _So?_ Privacy?” he asks, eyes wide, tottering about until he finds a cami mini slip, a cool pink satin. He’ll look good in it, the material perfect for his skinny frame, both cute and fuckable. He’s what they lust after, isn’t he? Is this jealousy, she asks herself internally as she watches - surely _not?_ She’s athletic, slim yet strong; blessed with a pretty jawline, envious oval eyes, long, thick black hair. Klaus looks breakable, _soft._ She does not.

There’s an ugly feeling settling inside her, something that she won’t understand for another two years; not until she’s out in the real world, living in America as a black woman.

He’s wriggling into the dress, acting as if flashing his sister a strip of skin would be scandalous despite behaving as a cock-hungry whore for anyone with a dick. She grabs his wrist as the towel falls to the ground, marching him in silence. Klaus wriggles in her grip weakly but not enough to protest. He’s intrigued, and despite her attentions being less welcomed than Diego’s, Luther’s or even Ben’s would be she knows his gossipy, girly nature means his interest is spiked as his sister leads him to the east wing of the Academy.

“In here,” she instructs, opening the door for him.

It’s an abandoned bedroom. Only the alleged adults are allowed on this side of the building. Allison scouted it a day ago, leaving her new presents under the bed. She’s pretty sure it was set up for whenever the Academy housed overseas or weary, well-traveled guests but it’s been years since Reginald welcomed outsiders.

It’s not secretive enough for Pogo to keep watch on it but it’s out of the way enough that no one will bother them.

“What do you _want_?” Klaus asks childishly. He looks like a teen prostitute in his little dress, hair almost fully dry and therefore curls untamed and soft-looking.

“Sit down,” she demands, pointing to the bed, “I’m going to make you pretty.”

Klaus smiles at that. It’s not one of his pleasant, subservient smiles he’ll flash to any boy that passes him. He’s laughing _at_ her, the thought making her prickle, ready to fight.

“I _am_ pretty,” he replies haughtily, looking up at the sky high ceilings.

“But not pretty enough,” she adds. He’s hurt by the simple statement yet he sits obediently, feet dangling off the bed as his sister crouches to retrieve her hidden treasure. He doesn’t speak, just watches, waiting as she unzips and produces a bulging bag.

“Lean back,” she says, leaving no room for argument. Klaus blinks, trying to conjure up a witty line, not used to her attention anymore. _He doesn’t want it,_ the anger inside of her remembers, making her slightly vicious as she slaps his cheek with a soft rouge.

“Ow,” he complains quietly, letting her manhandle his precious face regardless. She marvels at the way the pink sits on him, using her thumbs to close his eyelids. He goes along with it, perhaps relaxed now it’s just a girly pamper session. She can allow that false thought to linger with him a little while, circling gold eye-shadow and peppering it onto his lids before searching for mascara. Klaus is blessed with beautiful long lashes without any artificial support but she wants him dolled up, on the verge of daft. He’s so malleable under her hands, chin soft as she holds it high and pats Ruby Woo along the curve of his lips.

“Klaus,” she whispers once done, stroking his hair. He’s leaning onto his palms, comfortable, preening under her eyes.

“Thanks, sis,” he shrugs, making to move when his bony chest hits her firm palm.

“No,” she tells him, the bag of forbidden fruit at her toes, “this is for me.”

“What?”

He’s confused, yet there’s an arrogance about him she isn’t enjoying, the way he closes his eyes and shakes his hair.

“I’m going to see Diego,” he tries again, only to be shoved back with more force. He’s bewildered and the shock works to her advantage. Klaus isn’t strong but he’s quick and fights dirty. Her shove was powerful, knocking him back on his little pert ass, higher up the bed.

“Allison,” he tells her, irritated, “what is your _problem?_ ”

“My problem?” she mocks, “we’re not talking about me, slut,” she adds, a delicious feeling curling in his belly at the way he reacts to the insult, horrified, “you’re going to submit. To me.”

“To you?” Klaus asks, eyebrows raised, a smile almost dancing on his face, “I’m not - Ally - you’re a _girl_.”

She’s not sure if it’s the fury or the injustice of his words that push through into her veins, giving her even more resolve than she had previously to break this bitch. She slams down on his neck, pushing it into the soft pillow he rests on, her grip as harsh and angry as a poisonous snake's bite. He thrashes pathetically against her, hands clawing at hers and that's too bad for Klaus. She’s always been stronger than her baby brother.

“You think because I’m a girl, I can’t compete with the rest of them?” she checks, panting with the effort of keeping his slippery body still. He’s much weaker than her but that doesn’t mean it’s effortless to keep his body under her control, his eyes bulging, slapping at her wrists as he comes to terms with the fact he can’t physically remove her hands.

“Let’s fuckin’ see how you feel about it once you’re taking my dick in your ass, you dumb little whore,” she breathes over his face, turned on by the fear in his eyes, taking advantage of that fear to let go of his neck and break her straddle of his narrow little waist, turning him over. She doesn’t want to see him and doesn’t want _him_ to see her nervous hands, forcing his surrender as she presses on his neck again, another hand on his hip.

“Ally, I - ” he gasps, interrupted as she hitches his cami up to reveal a pale, smooth ass.

“Don’t fucking call me Ally,” she warns, “not now, not ever. You’re not allowed to say it,” she informs him, enjoying the new found power as Klaus gives up the fight. He’s jumpy to the touch still and she’s nervous, thankful he can’t see her eyes or the movement of her hands as he’d know. Klaus has always been good with reading people, finding their weak spots without having to throw a punch. 

She gives her brother’s peach of an ass an experimental squeeze, the way she’s seen Diego (and on occasion, Luther) do. He moans unhappily, makes a feeble attempt to wriggle away, thwarted by a stinging slap.

“No,” she snaps, “you’re going to stay right here, and you’re going to take it in the ass. You understand?”

With terrifying speed, she jumps to the edge of the bed, pulls the bag up. He tries to move, no doubt trick her with his wiles, eyes already wide with that type of sadness he knows washes well with his brothers.

It makes men soft, but she is not a man.

Klaus stops and starts as he breathes, fear radiating off him. She’s only ever touched herself to imagined scenarios, the adrenaline pumping through her right now awakening parts of her she never knew existed. She rids herself of her vest top and unbuttons her denim skirt, deciding she’s ok with him watching her, confused and unsure.

“Al-Allison,” he stutters, legs slightly spread from her earlier touches, “I’m - you can’t - ”

She pulls out the harness and dildo, satisfied to see his face crumple.

“Don’t,” he begs, tears - _crocodile tears -_ collecting in his soft green eyes.

Instead of demanding he turn around, she shoves his head back into the pillow, leaning over as she whispers cruelly, “I’d get a mouthful of this if I were you. Biting pillows, taking it like a cheap bitch? That’s your true superpower, isn’t it?”

Her clit tingles when she spies his hands, knuckles white as he clings to the duvet. The truth is, she has no fucking idea what she’s doing with this harness and she doesn’t need this loudmouth slut watching her, gaining confidence from her shaky, virginal, unsure movements. Klaus braced beneath her, she can slip it over her thighs and fiddle with the straps until her heart’s content. The stolen, prostate-hitting goal dildo fits into the hole with ease, Allison grabbing the straps and pulling them tight.

She takes the fake dick in her hand, hints of regret settling in she didn’t go something bigger. It feels _awesome_ , looking down and seeing a cock nestled where she’d usually find her clit. She gets it now. Men - her brothers - walk through the world _obsessed_ with these. As she brings her hand up and down, slowly, assessing her new appendage, she feels _free._

Klaus’ wandering eyes have escaped, peeping over his shoulder and looking at her apprehensively.

“Allis - ”

“Don’t fucking look at me!” she yells, embarrassed as she loses composure and slaps him hard, “turn around!”

Klaus starts to cry; not just wet, anxious tears but fat, noisy ones. She settles behind him, forcing his legs further apart with her own body and grabbing lube from the bag of treats. He’s a sniveling mess, hands underneath a pillow as he sobs into it but with her dick against him, Allison doesn’t much care. She spreads him with one hand, squirting lube from up high, drinking in his twitchy anxiety and sneaking a finger behind her harness pad to tease her clit.

“Please, I can’t,” Klaus hiccups, “I’ve never - never this - ”

“Never been fucked in the ass?” she asks happily, “well, let’s get a head start. Look at you, baby bro. You’re gonna make a lot of men happy, huh? I can see your headlines. _Slutty Seance Spreads ‘em!_ ”

She’s a little drunk off the power and Klaus’ reactions, fingers stroking over his soft, pink little hole. He moves his head, gasping for air and she smirks at the drool left on the pillow already, his head hanging, both in shame and desire. With a smooth, fluid motion, she presses one lubed-up finger inside him.

“ _Oh_ ,” they moan in unison, Klaus at how it feels to have someone else touch him inside and Allison at how it feels to push a part of you inside someone else’s body.

She reaches round, curiosity killed the cat and all that, to feel for his cock. He’s getting hard, humping at the sheets slowly in time with her finger and adorably embarrassed by it. It’s smoother inside of him now, Allison applying more lube before introducing a second finger into him, Klaus’ moaning in frustration. He tries to kick, as cute and clueless as a baby lamb, so Allison puts her research into practice and crooks her fingers, working her forearm to try and find where it is that’s going to make this little dolly of hers sing.

“Give it up to me,” Allison says hotly, pressing down on him, curling her fingers even more so, “let me have it. Come on, sweetheart. There’s a good boy.”

Klaus is restless, coming up for air, his face pink and clammy, eyes refusing to meet hers. She’s bored now, knows he’s open, loose and hard. Edging down, she slicks her cock up, wiping the excess lube across her brother’s puffy, drool-covered lips.

“Cherry for your cherry,” she boasts, gripping his hips tight. She’s going to be the first inside of him, before any of them, the tip of the dildo pressing at and then _in_  Klaus’ tight little hole, drawing out the most perfect, helpless moan from the boy beneath her.

“ _Allison_ ,” he sobs, making a mess of the white pillowcase with his leaky mascara and lipstick. She’s careful not to slam in, mesmerized as she watches her dick disappear inside him, inch by inch. He’s so easy to hold, tiny in her grip, arms outstretched now, clinging to bed-frame as she slowly but surely forces that tight ring of muscle to accommodate her.

“That’s it, slut,” she gasps desperately, obsessed with this feeling, with _taking_ someone, “give it up, let Daddy take it.”

It slips out, an experiment, wondering if she’ll like the way it rolls off her tongue. It feels foreign but not unpleasant, reinforcing her sense of power, dominance, over this bad mannered _whore_.

Klaus yelps, moaning with discomfort but there’s something else. Allison wishes it was her own warm skin she was pushing inside of her little brother instead of this plastic cock. He’s shaking underneath her, the pressure of the thick dildo no doubt making his little belly somersault, that smart mouth lazy and loose on the pillow as he drools like a helpless child.

Eyes transfixed on where they meet, she holds him tight, forces him to arch for her which gives her plenty of access to his dripping dick. She thrusts lazily, off-balance but unbothered, getting used to it, feeling invincible in this moment. Klaus is tender from his tears and half-hearted struggling, finally allowing her to take what she wants, including wrapping a hand around his little cock.

“This is tiny,” she informs him, her curvaceous hips snapping into his skinny ones, “I bet my clit is bigger.”

Klaus whimpers and for the first time (but not the last) pushes back onto her cock.

“Oh, _now_ you want my dick?” she mocks, not letting him off that easily, squeezing, drawing from him a delicious, pained moan.

“Say it,” she hisses, snapping into him with more force, “ _beg_ for it.”

He’s resistant, shaking his head into the pillow as if that means anything, eyes red and raw as he exposes his pink, damp face.

“Please,” he begs, voice scratchy and sore, tiny. It’s enough to placate her for now, seeing him a little broken and at her mercy. She’s taking something from him he can’t even get back, it’s _hers_ , that thought driving her into action. She speeds up, a soft roll of her hips, angling just so, slapping into Klaus with force as his moans become squeals, desperate and filthy. Allison rams into him with gusto, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest but she doesn’t care. She’s hyped, pumped up, grabbing a fistful of curls and yanking him back painfully.

“Come on then, slut, come on my cock,” she demands. Her back hurts, she wants nothing more than to flop down on the bed and flip Klaus up, make him ride her, but he has to be like this. He has to be bent over like a wanton, filthy tart. She knows for all his flirting, his dirty dealings with Diego, he’s still bambi-new to sex, tears spilling out as he begs for something he doesn’t fully understand.

“I’m - I’m - ” he sings, blabbering on, only inspiring her to be tougher, harsher, _faster_ \- battering into him at the angle she’s found, the one she knows is making his world tilt and spin backwards. He cries as he comes, tears of shock and pleasure. She can’t quite believe it. She did that, she’s the reason he’s wet on his little belly, hands stretching out and twitching, rouge lipstick all over his cheek and lips. _God, he’s gorgeous_ , she thinks, shaking as she stops to press a kiss onto a long, flushed neck, pulling her cock out gently.

 _“Ally - you’re a girl._ ”

  
Her back might ache but spite is a great motivator. Leaping to her feet, she doesn’t waste any time, grabbing his hair and forcing his mouth to her cock.

“Open your fucking mouth,” she fights, shaking him like a disobedient dog as he tries to wrench her hands away from him.

“You’re hurting me!” he complains, slapping at her when she uses the back of her hand to slap both of his down. He blinks up, hurt, hoping for kindness. Klaus can usually find it. Even Reginald will stop on occasion, affected by his prettiest son’s face. Men are weak. That doesn’t mean she has to be. Grabbing his chin, she angles the lubed-up dick for his lips, his struggle over before it began.

“Suck my dick,” she says hotly, an expression often used in their household, but this time she means it. Klaus looks betrayed that his damsel in distress act didn’t work on her, taking the rubber cock in his mouth, grimacing as he tastes himself on it. She’s amused to see him like this, especially once his eyes glaze over and he's suckling like a happy little cock-sucker.

“Choke on it, slut,” she spits, not wanting him to be too comfortable, “what was it, Klaus? A girl can’t make you her bitch? Looks like you’re my little bitch right now, doesn’t it?”

She forces his mouth down further, lets him gag and fight before he accepts his place, throat attempting to reject her. Saliva drips down his chin and onto his thighs, his pretty dress dirtied with spots of drool and come.

“Don’t you dare stop, bitch,” she warns, taking a wobbly hand away, pleased when Klaus doesn’t immediately try to bolt. He keeps his mouth wrapped around her dick, moving a little higher, not deepthroating unless she makes him. She looses a strap, enough to work her hand inside and play with herself, her panties soaked.

“Yeah, Klaus, come on, work for it,” she murmurs, more to herself than anything else, “don’t fuckin’ look at me, slut. Suck my dick like you were made for it. Little wh- _whore_ ,” her voice breaks, moving to her clit and rubbing gently, the thrill working its way through her. _God, yeah, this is it_ , _just like this_ \- _now look at him, on his knees, covered in spit, his ass split open by the cock that’s now in his mouth._

“Made you my little bitch,” she moans, close, forcing her other hand past the harness pad and pushing two fingers inside, her spare hand working her clit and grinding her cock into Klaus’ slutty, wet mouth, “stupid slut, begged for - begged for my - ”

Allison comes with the softest of moans, falling forward and accidentally driving herself deep into a spluttering Klaus, her pleasure her only thought as she rides her fingers and the gentle, intense wave of her orgasm. She doesn’t care that he’s pulled off, gasping for air rather than staying down on her cock, laughing to herself as the spikes of endorphins keep her running high.

“Huh,” she summarizes, beginning to unstrap, “that was….”

She looks to him but he’s quiet for once, wiping at his mouth.

“I get what the fuss is all about,” she pants, letting the harness hit the floor, “Klaus’ tasty little pussy. You just need Vanya to strap up, then everyone’s had you in one way or another, haven’t they?”

He pulls at the skirt of his dress, eventually looking at her. There’s a lot of love lost. She reaches to stroke across one of his impossibly perfect cheekbones. He could have stayed. He didn’t have to lose himself so much in desperation for Diego, _any_ boy’s attention, that she became invisible to him. She grabs his chin roughly, taking his silence as disrespect.

“Don’t kid yourself. This is all you are to them. To us,” she says in the empty room, hating how the words feel ugly and heavy.

“I know,” he replies softly, surprising them both, “I don’t mind, Allison. I like it. And… I’m sorry.”

She sneers, turning away to blink back tears and find her clothes.

“Tidy this away, unless you want Mom or Dad to discover it. You probably do, bet it would get you off,” she insults, leaving no room for questions or argument as she storms out. It’s better rushing through the house half dressed than it is to let her brother see her cry.

 

**

_  
04:29_

The ancient digital clock almost screams at her as she hangs out one of the tip-top abandoned rooms of the Academy, cigarette at the tip of her fingers. Her body is on fire, sizzling, burning up: flames of desire, need, guilt and envy licking at her insides. Every time she tried to close her eyes and drift to sleep she’d feel a jolt from the hours just gone, see Klaus’ white knuckles or tear-stained face, feel the flapping of his calf as he shook like a useless, dying bird in her arms.

She takes a long, heavy drag. It tastes disgusting.

  
**

  
Grace is on form, and dare Allison think it, brighter now that Reginald is London’s problem. It would suggest she’s capable of human emotion but perhaps she’s just adjusting the uplifted spirits of her children. Waffles with general helpings of syrup are served and they giggle among themselves, divided by their two tribes: Ben and Vanya versus Luther, Diego and Allison.

A stiff, limping Four joins them, late, his eyes blood-shot. He walks gently, places a hand on the chair next to his sister, waiting for her permission.

“You can sit on my lap,” Diego grunts, clearly not over his morning boner. Allison scoffs, pleased at the way her younger brother waits for her reaction before he speaks.

“Klaus is a little _sensitive_ today, boys,” she grins, enjoying her moment, the way they turn to her with interest. She checks, and sure enough Grace is humming to herself out of the way as she makes fresh orange juice for them. Ben’s ears must prick, Vanya left on stand-by as he leans over, waiting.

“What happened yesterday, Klaus?” she asks, turning to stare him down. He looks off-kilter, unsure, shrugging sulkily.

“I fucked him in the ass,” she supplies, to loud _‘whaaaaaaaat!?’s,_ ’ and hollers, Diego slamming his hand on the table, mouth open comically wide.

“You didn’t!” he tells her, happy, holding his palm out which she meets with a fierce slap, “bro, niiiiiice! Well, _sis,_ niiiiiiiice,” he jokes, eyes landing on their brother.

Klaus is searching for an ally but he can’t find one, apart from maybe Vanya. Seven looks away fast.

Luther looks angry, staring at Klaus as if he’s just insulted their Mother.

“Yeah, he was such a little _bitch_ about it, but he came on my dick. I didn’t even have to jerk him off,” she brags, into it now, cutting up her waffles. Diego giggles, impressed, Allison meeting his expression with a smug grin.

It’s Ben who’s looking at her with pity.

“What?” she snaps at Six, “go back to your weird crosswords with Seven, Octopus Boy,” she throws her hands, indicating he’s stupid. Ben isn’t like the other two, ego still intact despite her threatening it.

“Sure,” he adds coolly, “you ok, Klaus?”

No one’s spoken to Four since Allison's saucy reveal. He's stood still, hopeful for a seat next to his sister. Realizing he’s being addressed, Klaus slips into character, a _blink and you’ll miss it_ moment. He arches his back a little, flips a hand in the air.

“Me? I’m just dandy,” he simpers, “can’t a cutie have a little _fun_ with his loving sis?”

He reaches out to touch her but stops before she can snap his fingers in half.

 

He’s just a flower in the hurricane, waiting, wanting. Allison will swallow him whole.

 

**

 


End file.
